


Honor-bound to react

by AnnaBolena



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Might not, Oblivious gay revolutionaries, agressive Bean Tallmadge, caleb cares, might add porn, shutting Ben's pretty mouth, we shall see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-07 13:24:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14671986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaBolena/pseuds/AnnaBolena
Summary: "So when I, being the intelligence major that I am, combine the fact that you stare more than is proper with your insistent comments about say, the state of my derrière in this uniform or how handsome you find me, really I am inclined to think there lies more truth in your words than you would care for me to know."a.k.a. Caleb's plan to rile Ben up backfires spectacularly  ( ͡º ͜ʖ ͡º)





	Honor-bound to react

Caleb is waiting for Ben when he stalks back to the tent after the abysmal showdown with Washington. _And the French cannot know it,_ he hears the General’s voice in his head, usually so calm and controlled but tonight bursting with barely restrained outrage. Ben is so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice his friend, at first. 

"Drink?" Caleb offers empathetically, hiccupping a little as Ben snatches the bottle from his hands all too eagerly, throat bobbing as he drinks deep. Caleb’s eyes are glassy as he stares. Uncaring for the time being, Ben wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform coat, before promptly discarding it. 

"I take it Georgie wasn’t convinced, still?" he eventually adds as Ben paces the tent like an agitated animal, fighting with his neckerchief. The frustration is evident.

"Of course not," Ben mutters darkly, "The risk of losing the French is too great for him to bring the Judas to justice." Charles Lee is a traitor. Ben has risked his head to prove it. He has provided proof in black and white, and still Washington will do nothing. 

"It’s always bad when you allude to scripture," Caleb sighs, folding his arms behind his back. Ben doesn’t smile anymore. Absent-mindedly, Caleb tries to remember the last time he saw Ben smile. It must have been when he was reunited with his father, although back then Caleb was too caught up in his own grief to pay much attention to the young major Tallmadge. Ben used to be all smiles, soft and caring. War has hardened him, turned him into a powder keg ready to go off at all times. War has made Ben an uncontainable force. 

"Are you mocking me, Brewster?" Ben’s tongue is sharp tonight. It used to be a rare occurrence when Ben was spoiling for a fight, but that is another way war has changed him. The fight with Bradford and his men was reckless and stupid, a surefire way for Ben to vent his aggravation. He was outnumbered three to one, for Christ’s sake. _That pretty mouth_ would have been shut quite permanently if Bradford had gone ahead.

If Ben needs a way to let go of his frustrations, then Caleb would rather he take it out on him than stupidly shove Bradford into hot coals again. A service between friends, Caleb considers it, when he formulates his plan to let Ben rough him up a little. 

"Sure, Tallboy," Caleb grins, "Only because you’re so pretty when you’re angry."

He hears Ben’s quill snap in his hand as his oldest friend glares at him. It drives Caleb to keep going. Ben’s anger allows for easy provocation. "Your cheeks flush so daintily, Benny, it makes you look like the innocent little virgin you are." It isn't even a lie. Benjamin Tallmadge is the prettiest man Caleb knows, anger only accentuates his beauty. 

"You think that’s funny, huh?" Ben steps closer, and Caleb hurries to stand up so that Ben won’t gain the upper hand quite so quickly when he inevitably decks him.

"I do think it is a _touch_ amusing, yeah," Caleb pushes forward a little, sure he has Ben right where he wants him. _Come on_ , he thinks, _hit me_. 

"I lost my entire patrol to that damn traitor, Caleb," Ben hisses coldly, "If I could I would sneak into his tent right now and cut his throat from ear to ear." 

"But you won’t," Caleb retorts, more confident than he feels. Ben in this state is new. Caleb isn’t one hundred percent accurate in predicting volatile Ben’s reactions yet. He could picture it. War has also changed Ben's morals for the worse. The boy he grew up with would have balked at the thought of disposing of a man without even a pretense of a fair trial. But now he knows that if Ben were truly determined to do it, he would follow through. He would sneak into that tent, danger of a court-martial and summary execution be damned, and just do it. 

Caleb would do it too, but then again Caleb has always been the more volatile of the two. If nothing else, then Ben has always been his voice of reason. What if that has changed as well? How much more will this war take from Ben?

"Because I’m a man of honor?" Ben spits out, the word honor sounding like an insult even to Caleb’s ears.

"Well, yeah, you are," Caleb furrows his brows. "That’s what everyone admires about you, Ben." It is something that Caleb has admired as well, for the longest time. Ben has principles. Or, perhaps, Ben _had_ principles. 

"Convenient for you too," Ben scoffs, staring him down. The words confuse Caleb, because if anything, subtly trying to offer himself as an outlet for Ben's compounding aggression isn't exactly  _convenient._ It is something he does to save Ben from actually getting hurt. 

"Why do you say that?"

"Because you feel safe in the knowledge that my _honor_ will prevent me from reacting to your words," Ben sounds considerably calmer now, but somehow it feels even more dangerous.

"Actually, I was trying to get you to punch me, major," he shrugs, "So much for head of intelligence, yeah?" But now something has changed in Ben’s demeanor and Caleb quietly strangles the urge to excuse himself. There is hunger in Ben’s eyes, hunger that pervades all of Caleb’s senses as he watches Ben’s pupils widen, turning ocean blue eyes into deep black holes ready to destroy Caleb. What is Ben on about? 

"I don’t mean your insults, Caleb," Ben narrows his eyes. "I mean the words you pretend to say in jest."

Caleb swallows. Now he is nervous, despite being relatively sure that Ben does not know- cannot possibly know what he is talking about. How could Ben possibly understand what Caleb has kept buried inside of him for years?

"Oh yes, Caleb," Ben nods, "I am also not oblivious to your lingering gaze, inconspicuous though you may think yourself to be."

Caleb wants to retort something, wants to diffuse the situation now instead of riling Ben up further because the night has just taken a turn for the disastrous and Caleb really isn’t sure he should be staying in this tent any longer – never mind that it is their _shared_ tent.

All he manages is a squeak he will deny having produced for the rest of his mortal life as Ben steps closer, chest pressing against Caleb. Normally it would not be intimidating. Normally, Caleb would confidently assume that no matter how close, Ben would never pose a danger to him. But now there he is, unabashedly staring at Caleb and for the life of him Caleb can’t look away even though he really, _really_ should. Instead he fights his desire to melt into the strong arms enclosing him. He clenches his teeth and returns Ben's gaze. 

"So when I, being the _intelligence major_ that I am, combine the fact that you stare more than is proper with your insistent comments about say, the state of my derrière in this uniform or how _pretty_ you find me, really I am inclined to think there lies more truth in your words than you would care for me to know."

The words are quiet, for this is not a conversation anyone outside of this tent ought to bear witness too, but painfully sharp and to the point. But Caleb feels Ben's breath tickle his face, a testament to how close he has gotten, how much he has encroached on Caleb's personal space. The conversation has derailed too far to be brought back onto the right track, and Caleb feels helpless. He can do nothing but watch as Ben's words wreck the rest of his life. 

"Well, Caleb?" Ben presses, after what feels like an eternity of silence in which Caleb tries his damndest to think of a non-incriminating response. "Am I right?"

He has known Ben all his life. Ben would never- 

But what else can Ben do, when he has put together all the evidence he needs to damn him? 

"Ben," Caleb manages to press out, "If I didn’t steadfastly believe in your honor I would have been a lot more careful about watching my mouth."

His words have always been off-handed compliments disguised as teasing. From the very day he discovered his attraction to his younger friend. All the comments about Ben were made because eventually Caleb grew addicted to watching the way Ben's cheeks would redden, the way his eyes would flit hastily between the floor and Caleb's face, the shy smile, the hesitant laugh, inevitably followed by anything between a nudge and a shove and a muttered  _you're an arsehole, Brewster._

Ben raises one eyebrow, demanding further explanation silently as his eyes burn their way into Caleb’s mind for all eternity. "You won’t report me, Ben, will you? Not with how long we’ve known each other." And if his voice quivers with uncertainty just a little bit then Caleb will put it down to the amount of drink he has had. Never did he think he would feel so vulnerable in front of Ben. Not ten minutes ago Caleb would have confidently sworn on everything holy that Ben would never give him cause to doubt him. But now his eyes are almost fully black and Caleb isn't sure of anything anymore. 

Disbelief replaces some of the tension in Ben’s face as his jaw slackens. " _Report_ you?"

Caleb straightens his back, meets Ben’s eyes again, looking for an answer to Ben’s strange behavior and coming up short. "Why on earth would I report you, Caleb?"

"I believe I heard a comment about reacting to my words somewhere in there, major, and it seems you have me all figured out. What reaction did you have in mind, if not an official report?"

Ben has the audacity to laugh. It irritates Caleb beyond belief and he only narrowly avoids shoving the _major_ away from him by being hauled even closer to Ben through hands fisted firmly in his shirt. Ben’s mouth on him vaguely registers as hot and demanding before Caleb even realizes what is happening. Benjamin Tallmadge is kissing him. Scratch that, the famous Benny-boy Tallmadge has him pressed against the desk in their tent, licking dirtily in his mouth with enough fervor to make even the most weathered whore blush. One of his sturdy legs pushes insistently between Caleb’s legs, giving him friction that he desperately needs, craves, yearns for. It is almost too much, the way Ben presses even closer when Caleb chokes out a needy moan. _More_ , Caleb almost croaks out, but instead settles for fisting his hand in Ben's hair, messing up the perfect braid. 

When Ben pulls away, hands still grasping onto aged cloth that really cannot take much more stress before it rips apart, there is laughter in Ben’s eyes, amidst a pool of confusion and undeniable desire. "See, I was thinking more of a reaction like this."

 

 Caleb swallows, licks his lips, tries to speak, fails. 

"Report you, Caleb? Honestly, what nonsense you speak sometimes." Ben's face is gentler now, a soft smile playing along his swollen pink lips. One hand comes up to Caleb's cheek and Ben's knuckles caress him, eliciting an astounded sound from Caleb. 

Caleb, for his part, isn’t sure he will ever recover the ability to speak. Instead he focuses on breathing, sucking in air as if somehow, enough of it will make his head stop spinning. "I’ll be honest," he says after a few minutes of watching Ben’s laughter slowly die and give way to underlying worry. "I didn’t see this coming."

Ben’s hand releases his shirt, suddenly backtracking. "I thought-" he clears his throat, which Caleb is glad for because the huskiness of Ben’s voice is doing things to him that he can’t control- "I thought I was acting on what we both wanted."

And damn it if the sight of Ben suddenly wearing his heart on his sleeve doesn’t just make Caleb melt.

"Yeah, obviously," he clarifies, "I just didn’t expect you to be so, uh, brazen in your advances."

When Ben blushes now, gaze trailing lower over Caleb’s form, it still only looks mildly embarrassed. All in all, Caleb would wager, smugness wins out. "Don’t see you complaining. Didn’t hear a complaint either, unless I misconstrued that moan."

"You won’t hear me complaining neither, Tallboy," Caleb grins, "But don’t go riding off on that high horse of yours now."

"Not exactly the kind of ride I was looking for tonight," Ben says with feigned nonchalance, breaking out into a grin when Caleb sputters again. "Come here."

Caleb briefly wonders where exactly his up-until-now-presumed-virgin friend learned to kiss and tease and _ruin_ just like that but all thoughts of Ben’s previously clandestine exploits fly out the window when Ben finally puts an end to Caleb’s torment and cups him through his slacks. 

Ben makes quick work of the odious cloth that prevents full skin-on-skin contact, but then seems to think better of it. He steps away, glancing at the tent flaps, then back to Caleb. One eyebrow rises carefully up his forehead, and Caleb gets the hint. "Don't think anybody is looking for me tonight. Might as well close it tightly."

Ben laughs and handles it quickly. As soon as he turns around Caleb takes his chance to pounce on him, pushing himself up on tiptoes to pull Ben into a tight embrace, locking their lips and running his hands over every part of him he can get to. Ben's waistcoat falls to the floor, stiff and unyielding until the end. His undershirt follows quickly, and as a whole field of bare skin is revealed, Caleb sets out to run his tongue and lips over every inch of it. Ben's uneven breathing excites Caleb, and he pushes him onto one of their cots - he can't really say whether it was his own or Ben's, his mind is too preoccupied. 

Ben does not remain idle either, tugging Caleb's slacks off of him, huffing against Caleb's demanding lips when Caleb's boots prevent a complete state of undress. "Yeah, yeah, I got it," Caleb rolls his eyes at Ben's insistant glare, toeing off the boots and slacks before falling onto Ben's body once more, feeling at home in the large arms that come to wrap around him. 

It doesn't take long after that for every piece of clothing to scatter the floor. 

Only once they are completely naked does either man consider pausing just for a second to think of what happens next. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> give me feedback lol.


End file.
